On the Side of Angels
by Julia Caesaris
Summary: After the events of "Last of the Time Lords," the world has one last surprise in store for the Doctor - the Master had a son. And Time Lord genes are dominant. Damaged as he is, the Doctor still has to care for the baby - the only other Time Lord - while dealing with the aftereffects of the Year That Never Was.
1. Adjusting, I

**A/N: Twicked, I blame you. The prompt: **Martha, Jack, and the 10th doctor trying to take care of a baby (With that baby having a strange affinity to clinging to people, and Jack).** Which my brain took as "that baby having a strange affinity to clinging to people **_**especially**_** Jack", even though that wasn't what was written. Oops.**

**Right, well, I wrote it. This particular plot bunny may come back; I've set things up deliberately so that I can come back and continue it if I want to. **

**WARNINGS: Mention of PTSD, implied torture, implied rape (if you squint), angst, fluff, swearing, Jack being Jack, and attractive characters holding a baby. You have been warned.**

* * *

It's over.

One long, bloody year, the longest he's ever lived through, is over, and he isn't sure if he wants to laugh or cry. The Master's dead, but everyone else is alive – and unlike normally, it isn't just everyone he's met, it actually is _everyone_ – and his TARDIS is fine, and all he really wants to do is curl up in the library for a while and try to forget about this.

He can't, of course, because they're still on board the _Valiant_, with a dead President and a dead PM and someone will need explanations, but that's what he wants.

It's either that or dying himself.

"Doctor?"

He turns, focusing pain-filled eyes on Martha. "Yeah."

She grabs his hand. "Jack says we need to leave now unless we want to spend the next three weeks being interrogated by UNIT."

"Yeah," he says again, because there's nothing else in his head, nothing but the image of the Master dying again, over and over, and the emptiness of being alone.

Martha grabs his other hand and forces him to look at her. "Doctor. What are we doing?"

He doesn't _want_ to make decisions, can't she see that? Instead he pulls his hands away and goes to look out the windows, down on the Earth that doesn't realize how much he sacrificed to save them. For a moment he's bitter. Then he's just sad.

"Doctor."

He can feel Jack enter the room. He wasn't lying, he doesn't like the way Jack feels, but he can tolerate it. It's just impossible to ignore.

He doesn't respond.

"Doctor." Jack's hand rests on his shoulder, a point of _wrongness_ – because he's not in a mood to be polite – against a world that had ceased to have value. "I need your help with something."

He looks at Jack with the same gaze he'd used on Martha, and then turns away again.

Jack moves his hand down to rest on the Doctor's elbow. "Doctor, really, there's something you should know –"

His voice is cut off by a baby's sudden squalling, and suddenly the Doctor's world revolves on its axis.

Lucy Saxon is standing there, bracketed by two guards, and holding a baby in her arms. A very upset, very noisy, very _impossible_ baby.

He leaves the window, crossing the room quickly to stand in front of Lucy. "Is it yours?" That's the first question, but it's not the most important.

She nods, crying slightly. She's had a very bad day, and if he was in the mood he'd feel sympathetic, because she hadn't deserved any of this, but she'd _shot_ the _Master_, and he wasn't in the mood.

"And his?" This one is the most important question, although he can feel the child stretching more than five senses.

Again, she nods.

He has to turn away, has to wrap his arms around himself to stop the trembling. Time Lord genes are dominant. If the Master did it right – and he would have – that baby is the only other living Time Lord.

Still shaking slightly, the Doctor turns back, a mad, masochistic, self-sacrificing urge driving him to ask first: "Do you want it?"

Lucy looks at the baby in her arms and then at him, as if he's insane. "No. It's his, isn't it? I – I don't want anything of his."

He tries not to look too excited. "I'll take it, then."

There's a gleeful look in her eye at this, and it's briefly so _wrong_ that a mother look so joyful at the theft of her only child, but then he rationalizes that it's a Time Lord child and a human mother and things wouldn't work out anyway. "It's a boy. _He _called him Apophis."

The Doctor blinks. Apophis – the Egyptian snake god of chaos and darkness. For the Master's child, it's an appropriate name. "Right. I'll take him."

He reaches out and Lucy – astonishingly caring for a woman who professes to hate her child – hands him Apophis. The baby's gradually quieting cries return full blast at the touch of the Doctor's hands.

Lucy backs away quickly, her guards following – she probably is trying to make sure the Doctor doesn't try to give the child _back_.

He doesn't, and he wouldn't. No matter how loud Apophis screams, he's never letting go. Because this child is a Time Lord and he can see a future for his race where none was before, and for the first time in a _year_ he smiles.

Jack's standing behind him again. "Ah. I see you found the child. Doctor – you gotta plan?" Jack is clearly straining his voice to be heard over the baby's crying.

The Doctor turns, beaming, to present the child. "I don't know," he says, words which normally would burn, but right now he's grinning too hard for them to have any affect. "But Apophis stays with me. Come on, Jack – Martha – let's go back to the TARDIS." He's making and dissolving decisions rapidly, unable to commit to anything, but he knows the child is a Time Lord, and that's the most important thing in the world.

Jack and Martha follow him down the twisty corridors of the _Valiant_, screaming baby in his hands. Apophis isn't even screaming words or ideas – he's just upset, and trying to tell the world that. The Doctor mutters something comforting – he can't remember what, later – as he hurries to his TARDIS.

"Jack – hold him for a minute." The Doctor hands Apophis off to Jack, trying to remember which pocket his key is in.

Gracefully, Jack takes the child. The instant the Doctor's hands are gone, Apophis quiets, looking up at Jack with interest.

The Doctor struggles with the lock for a moment before flinging open the doors. "Aha! Home at last." He strides into the TARDIS, making it all the way to the console before he turns, remembering the baby. "I'll have him back now."

Jack follows him, Apophis whimpering slightly as he steps into the TARDIS. "You certain, Doctor? I can hold him during flight if you want me to."

That's just it, the Doctor _doesn't_ want. Jack is alien and wrong and has no right to be touching a being so frail and precious as a baby Time Lord. "Just for a minute. To introduce him to the TARDIS." There's something slightly off about this, but he can't quite place it, so it must not matter. He can always remember the important things.

Again, the moment the Doctor's hands touch Apophis, the baby begins to cry. This time the Doctor's paying attention.

So is Jack. "Um, Doctor? Is there a reason?"

The Doctor looks down at the little miracle and frowns. "Martha? Come here."

Almost reluctantly, Martha comes over, but the Doctor's got too much on his mind to worry about this. Silently, he hands Apophis to her. He quiets, but not by much. Martha's also frowning, but when she hands the baby off to Jack, that frown softens to a smile as he quiets instantly.

Apophis looks up at Jack, blue eyes _huge_, hiccups, and falls asleep. Both the Doctor's hearts melt. He's suddenly flamingly jealous of Jack, and all he really wants is to take the baby back, but he can't, not now.

Swallowing, he looks at Martha. "We've got a problem."

She nods, giving him a Look. "Several, actually. Not the least of which is, I want to stay with my family."

"Oh." He frowns again, looking at the others, back and forth, not sure what to do with this latest dilemma.

Jack steps forward, still cradling Apophis in his arms, now firmly asleep. "UNIT's on their way, Doctor. Martha, if you wanna get your family and bring them here, the Doctor'll take you home."

"Oi!" the Doctor protests, none too seriously, at being treated like a taxi service. Sobering rapidly, he looks at Martha. "Yeah. Get your family. If you run into UNIT, tell 'em – oh, _drat it_, what was the passphrase – _jelly babies!_"

Martha's Look returns full force. "Jelly babies?"

He nods, beginning to grin. "That's my passphrase. Hopefully the Brig made sure everyone still knows – anyway, off you pop, go find your parents, Jack and I'll be right here." He smiles at her, knowing that it's fake, knowing that she knows it's fake, but not having the energy to care.

She gives him a pitying look – he hates it, he doesn't need her _pity_ – and leaves the TARDIS quickly.

"Doctor." Jack steps closer to him again, adjusting the baby until he can place a hand on the Doctor's shoulder. "What about his body?"

The Doctor has to mouth the words a couple times before they make sense. His body. The Master's body. "It – someone should go get it. It's valuable."

Jack looks at him. "Like the hand."

"Yes – _no._ But yes. Sort of." He can't keep it all straight in his head anymore, his companions and their families and the Master and his _son_. It's all running around in circles and he's not old anymore and the Master's dead and there's _another Time Lord_ and UNIT's here and Jack's _wrong_ and he has his TARDIS back and there are humans to take care of and it's all too much and he wants to run again but he can't because there are humans who need to be dealt with –

"Doctor." Jack again. "Focus on me. You're exhausted and in shock; you need to sleep and deal with the events of today. Things won't fall apart just because you take a nap."

He thinks this is wrong, but he doesn't know why he thinks this. "Can't. Someone's got to get the body and someone's got to watch Apophis."

Jack adjusts the baby. Apophis' eyes flicker open. For a moment they focus on Jack's face, and then, with a quiet gurgle, they slip closed again. Jack grins at Apophis and from the look on his face, the Doctor can tell that he's lost. "You go get the body," Jack says, still smiling, "I'll watch the little one."

"No," the Doctor says flatly. "There is no way I'm leaving you alone with him."

Jack glares at him. "Don't worry, Doctor, I'm not gonna _molest_ your little Time Lord. Who do you think I am?"

The phone on the console rings at this point; something that's all for the better given the Doctor's array of possible responses.

"You have a phone? Since when have you had a _phone_?" Jack asks.

The Doctor scowls at him, working his way around the console to the antique handset. "Since I had companions with mobiles."

Jack's eyebrows shoot up. "Rose had a mobile."

Ignoring him, the Doctor picks up the phone. "Martha? You alright?"

"Yeah, yeah Doctor, I'm – _god_ – I'm fine."

The Doctor briefly contains the thought that she doesn't _sound_ fine, and then moves on. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"I – I'm with my family."

That's not really an answer. "Fine. Are you on your way back?"

"No." That, at least, is strong. "These UNIT goons won't let us leave. Want us to answer questions. _God_, Doctor –" She's starting to cry. Why is she starting to cry? He's not good with crying women. Or crying anything, actually.

He looks at Jack, who can hear what's going on perfectly well. Jack shrugs.

"They're dressed just like the – the Master's guards. They – they move like them."

Oh.

The Doctor sighs. "Martha. Take a breath. Take a good, deep breath, and hold it. Can you do that for me?"

A half-choked sob comes from the other end. "Uh-huh."

"Good. Now let it out slowly. And another breath. And hold." He makes eye contact with Jack, who mouths P-T-S-D. The Doctor nods.

Martha makes a noise a bit like a chuckle and a lot like a sob. "I – I know what you're doing, Doctor. I – I know about shock."

He swallows. "Good. Martha, I'm really sorry, but I need you to go up to one of the guards and ask if you can speak to the Brigadier. Throw my name around a lot."

"Right," she says weakly. "Go up to a guard, ask for the Brigadier. What if there's more than one?"

That sparks a half-laugh from him. "Oh, don't worry Martha, there's only ever the one."

"Great." There's a pause. "Stay on the line?"

"Of course."

Another pause, then he can half-hear Martha arguing – politely – with a soldier. Then, clearly, he hears, "Look, you stupid berk, just get your CO and I can explain myself!"

Jack laughs. "Didn't think she had it in her."

The Doctor raises an eyebrow.

"Alright, fine, I had some suspicions after she played the Master. But really – swearing?" Jack chuckles. "I could get to _liking_ her."

"Jack!" Martha's back on the line, and a bit upset, if her tone of voice is any indicator. "Doctor, I'm handing you off to the Brigadier."

The Doctor switches the handset from one hand to the other, waiting for the sound of breathing to change. When it does, he grins. "Brigadier Alastair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart, _good_ to talk to you again."

"Doctor?" A pause. "You regenerated again, didn't you." It's not a question.

He's beaming now, and fidgeting back and forth. "Yep! A few times, actually. Look, I need you to do something for me."

"What else is new," the Brigadier mutters.

He ignores this. "That girl who called you over – let her go. Her and her family. She's not part of this – well, she is, but she's not going to give you any useful information. Just let them all go."

The Brigadier sighs. "Sir, I know –"

"Don't," the Doctor says coldly. "Whatever you're going to say, don't. That family has been through _hell_ in the past year, and I am going to protect them now."

"Year?"

He almost swears, but stops, because young as Apophis is, he can still remember things like that. "Wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey. It was three minutes for you from the death of Winters to the – the death of – of Saxon. It was a year for everyone on board that ship."

"_Christ_."

"If he'd been there, things might have gone better," the Doctor comments. They certainly couldn't have gone any _worse_.

The Brigadier snorts. "Look, Doctor, I need a little more information. What am I supposed to tell the United Nations?"

He hasn't thought of that. The Doctor looks at Jack, who shrugs again, Apophis sound asleep in his arms. "Um – Tell them that Saxon shot Winters and then himself. If UNIT protests, tell them that he was under the control of some alien thing. Keep it simple. Oh – and I need Saxon's body. Wipe up the blood and bring me every drop of it, am I clear?"

"Why?"

He doesn't want to say but all of a sudden, it's just too much and the whole thing comes pouring out. "Because the bloody United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland decided to elect _the Master_ as their Prime Minister! And I had to come and fix it and he's dead on the floor up there and I need every single thing that could contain his genome and you're going to let my companion go because I have spent _far_ too long away from her." He pants, the rage having drained him.

The other end of the line is silent for a long minute. "I'll deal with it," the Brigadier says finally. "Where are you?"

The Doctor stares blankly at Jack, who grins. "Bay 6B," he says, looking down at Apophis.

"You get that, Brigadier? Bay 6B."

Another snort. "If I didn't get it the first time, I definitely do now. On my way, sir." There's a click from the other end of the line.

"Now what?" Jack asks.

The Doctor doesn't have an answer to this question, although sitting in a corner and crying is definitely a valid possibility. He's been through so much today, and he wants to take Apophis and just worship the little miracle, but for some reason the little miracle doesn't want to be worshiped. Or rather, not by him. He likes _Jack_ just fine, which is annoying.

"Fine then. Don't answer," Jack snarks, looking a little annoyed himself.

Serves him right.

They stand there in uncomfortable silence for a while, both men looking at the baby. Apophis sleeps on, peacefully unaware of the chaos surrounding him.

When the knock on the door comes, both men jump. Apophis wakes up, eyes going _huge_ for a moment. Then he looks up at Jack and smiles, displaying empty gums. Gurgling, he reaches a hand up for Jack's hair. Jack laughs and shifts him to be supported by only one hand, before letting Apophis grab onto the other. Apophis' eyes focus on Jack's hand. He frowns slightly, trying to pull Jack's hand closer to his mouth.

Jack laughs. "You should get the door, Doc. This one wants both my hands."

The Doctor makes a face at him, but crosses over to the door regardless. Pulling it open, he beams – a real, true grin – at the Brigadier. "Brigadier! You haven't changed a bit!" It's a lie, it's always a lie, there are more wrinkles around his eyes and his hair is much greyer, but it's an expected lie.

"Sir. You've changed quite a lot." The Brigadier scans him up and down – a lot of up and not much down.

He shrugs eloquently. Or at least _he _thinks it's eloquent. It might not be eloquent, now that he thinks about it. It could be horribly misleading, or an innuendo – actually, yes, now that he's thinking about things, shrugging _is _a come-on in at least three systems – and he's babbling again, although at least this time, it's only in his head. "Did you – _Martha_ Jones!" He spots her behind the Brigadier and bursts out of the TARDIS. "Excellent. And the rest of the – the – the Joneses, good, good. And – that."

The Brigadier has, with his customary efficiency, wrapped the Master's body up in a tarp. Beside it is a bucket filled with blood-stained rags. It's surrounded by four black-clad UNIT soldiers. Martha and her family are off to the side.

"Right-o," the Doctor says, jamming hands in his pockets. "Everyone into the TARDIS. You lot," he gestures vaguely at the soldiers, "get his body. Come on, hop to!" Grin fading, he turns his attention to Martha. "How're you doing?"

She swallows, hard. "Fine. You?"

He makes a dismissive gesture with his head. "I'm alright. Should we go then?"

"Yeah."

Neither of them move. The soldiers work around them, transporting the Master's body into the TARDIS. Eventually Martha's family heads in. They've all had to clean the TARDIS console at one point or another over the past year, so there aren't any exclamations. Which is a bit unfortunate, the Doctor reflects, because he really likes that bit.

"Can – can I?" Martha hesitates and looks down. "I – I don't know what he did, Doctor, but after – after captivity, some people –"

He figures out where this is going and smiles slightly. "You're worried about hugging me?"

She makes a face at him. "If you put it that way, it sounds silly."

"Oh, come here you!" He runs at her, pulling her up into a hug. They stand there for a moment, caught up in being with each other once again – a whole _year_ without his companion, it was more tortuous than anything else the Master could have done – until finally Martha pulls away.

"Right, time to go, innit?" She smiles, sort of, and he smiles back

Jerking his head at the TARDIS, he scans the room for anything they've forgot, and then follows her in. "Right – oh good, I see you two have met."

Jack and the Brigadier are standing about six feet apart, glaring at each other. The effort is spoiled slightly on Jack's part by the presence of the baby. To his credit, this doesn't make any difference in the intensity of his antagonism towards the other officer.

Stepping forward, he smiles brightly at the two. "Brigadier, may I introduce Captain Jack Harkness, of the Torchwood Institute? And Jack, this is Brigadier Alastair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart, of UNIT."

"We've met," Jack says abruptly.

"Oh good," the Doctor says, looking between the two of them. "And we're getting along just fine, are we? Jack, back down, I trust the Brig with my life. Have, a couple times. Brigadier, same to you. Jack's a good man, much as he is a rogue."

The Brigadier gives him a look. "I'm sure there's a story behind the child, sir."

The Doctor nods. "There is, and it's a long one, and you don't get to hear it. Sorry," he says, not really sorry at all.

"Of course," the Brigadier replies, with the air of a man who hadn't expected anything else and should have known better than to ask. "Do you need anything else?"

He smiles shakily. "It's _good_ to see you again, Brigadier." He says this because it _is_, the Brigadier is one of his oldest and longest companions, but also because the answer to the question is way too long and complex and _revealing_ for him to say.

The Brigadier almost smiles. "Glad you didn't need my help this time. I'm getting old for this, Doctor."

"Yeah," the Doctor says quietly. "So am I." Before the Brigadier could say anything to this, he continues. "Off you go, then, Brig. Take your soldiers with you. I'll deal with the civies here, just make sure to clean up the _Valiant._"

Both the Brigadier and Jack look worried at this, although only the Brigadier says anything. "Sir. I'll keep an eye out for you." Saluting, he waves the other soldiers out ahead of him. "Take care of yourself, sir," he mutters on his way out of the TARDIS.

As the door closes, the Doctor relaxes, supporting himself entirely on the console.

"What's wrong?" Jack, far more astute than the Doctor ever wanted, steps forward, looking at him.

The Doctor snarls. "Nothing." Without warning, he pulls a lever, sending the TARDIS off into the Time Vortex.

One of the Joneses yells – he doesn't care enough to figure out which. Apophis wakes up and begins whimpering, turning head towards Jack's chest. Jack uses his free hand to punch the Doctor, gently, in the shoulder. "Stop it."

The Doctor flinches – he can't help himself – and steps away from Jack. "I saw him," he says suddenly, "during the past year, I saw the Brig."

Jack nods, understanding enough about the Doctor to remain quiet.

"The Master found him – the Master found a lot of them, but he particularly cared about the Brigadier. He was alive when the guards brought him in. And then – he wasn't." The Doctor looks down at the console, pulling another lever, much more gently this time.

Behind him, he can feel Jack freeze. "Oh. I'm sorry."

The Doctor ignores this, piloting the TARDIS through the Time Vortex, particularly complex now after the events of the past year – or fifteen minutes, he's not sure which.

"I met the Brigadier," Jack says, "a couple years ago. A dispute over whether UNIT or Torchwood had jurisdiction. We didn't like each other. He thought I was a insincere fop, and I thought he was a pompous idiot."

The Doctor laughs, sort of. "I called him that, once. A long time ago."

Jack smiles, in the same sort of way that the Doctor laughs – bitter, self-depreciating, hopeless. "Where are we landing?"

"Inside the Hub," the Doctor says, falsely casual.

As expected, Jack isn't happy. "You've never been inside."

The Doctor grins at him, _hoping_ that Jack will get angry. He can't deal with pity right now, but he always knows how to deal with anger. "Nope!"

"You'll hit something," Jack bursts out. "You're not any good at landing the TARDIS even when you've already been there, what makes you think you can do it now?"

He ignores this, flipping a switch. With a thud, the TARDIS lands. "Well then. Here we are."

Jack shoots him a glare – Apophis is still whimpering and hasn't fallen back asleep yet – and makes his way to the doors, pulling one open. "Well," he says dryly, "you don't seem to have landed on Tosh's computers."

"Excellent!" The Doctor fakes enthusiasm and thinks most of the humans bought it. Only Martha gives him a look, but it fades quickly. "Right, off you go Jack. And give me my baby back."

The look on Jack's face clearly says that he's not going with it. "No. We're all going to pull up some chairs and talk about what happens next."

Oddly, the Doctor only nominally protests. He doesn't want to fly off again, not really, and as wrong as Jack feels, he's still a source of stability in a world that seems determined to throw him off.

* * *

It took Jack years to figure out that he can't die. It took him even longer to find out the other card in this twisted hand: he can't go insane. No matter what happens to him, he can't acquire PTSD, depression, shock, or any of a thousand and one other mental disorders. Most days he is grateful for this. Some he isn't.

The cost of this, of course, is that sometimes he forgets that other people can still be affected. Like Martha and her family.

Like the Doctor.

Their "discussion" about what will happen next is little more than Jack giving orders and fending off increasingly desperate attempts from the Doctor to regain control. In the end, Martha and her family go to rent a hotel room in Cardiff for a few weeks. Their home has been infiltrated, and until Jack has the time necessary to put their life back together, it'll help for them to be nearby. The Master's body and everything with his blood on it are moved into one of Torchwood's stasis chambers until the Doctor is stable enough to burn them. Jack calls his team and gets Gwen, which is fortunate because he really doesn't think he can handle Owen right now. They're given instructions to get back yesterday, if at all possible, and Gwen says they'll be back the following morning. Which leaves Jack and the Doctor. And the Time Tyke, which is what Jack has begun mentally calling Apophis.

The Time Tyke isn't the problem, or at least he isn't most of it. The problem is the Doctor, who is rapidly approaching the verge of physical and mental collapse. The problem is that he won't listen to anything and he won't eat and he won't sleep and he's paranoid beyond all belief. The problem is that the Doctor's damaged and Jack hasn't a clue how to fix it.

It takes two hours of talking to get an agreement out of the Doctor: he'll return to the TARDIS and sleep, but he won't fly off, because Jack's not giving up the Time Tyke for another ten hours and the Doctor may as well spend that time sleeping. To keep him from jumping forward in time anyway, Jack specifies that it has to be at least ten hours in both their timelines.

By this point the Doctor is about ready to fall asleep at the table, so Jack helps him up one handed – he hasn't put Apophis down yet, other than to change his nappies once and thank _god_ for that incident back in the '60s – and tips him into the TARDIS.

That job done, Jack moves on to the next: Taking care of the Time Tyke.

The aforementioned incident in the '60s had also produced a number of baby products, including a sling, which Jack gratefully straps the Time Tyke into. Apophis looks up at him and giggles.

Jack giggles back, setting off a round of mutual giggling for a while. "Thank god that some of us got through this unscathed, eh?" he says companionably, running a hand through the Time Tyke's brown fuzz.

Apophis burbles at him.

"Yeah," Jack says, not sure what he's agreeing to. "I bet you're hungry, though."

It's the oddest excursion for the Torchwood van yet: One immortal and one half-alien half-human baby, off to Sainsbury's to pick up formula and whatever else he decides they need. While he gets some looks in the store – a few involved phone numbers – finding supplies is easy enough, and they're shortly headed back home.

He hopes that Time Tykes don't have any allergies to human food – the Doctor doesn't seem to, but that could just be him – and feeds Apophis the better part of a bottle. Done with that, he gives the Tyke a dummy and gets a perplexed stare.

"Don't look at me like that. It's a dummy – you know, a pacifier?" He doesn't really expect that Apophis will know the American term any better than the British, but it's worth a try. He manoeuvres the dummy into the Time Tyke's mouth.

Apophis promptly spits it out.

Jack makes a face at the Tyke and puts the dummy back in his mouth.

Apophis spits it out again, giggling at this great game.

"You know what? You don't want it, you don't _get_ your dummy." He knows perfectly well he's being petty, but neither of them care. "It's probably bedtime for you, isn't it?"

This gets another burble, the Tyke intrigued by the change in tone.

"Yep, definitely bedtime." Grinning, Jack unbuckles the sling, gently pulling Apophis out and laying him to rest in the crib. The crib is also from the '60s incident – that had been a fun two years, Jack recalls absently – but out of a sense of paranoia, Jack's kept it clean.

The Time Tyke coos at him, blinking tiredly.

Jack smiles, pulling a chair over. "Yeah, you go to sleep. I'll be right here."

* * *

Morning finds them sound asleep, Jack's hand resting between the bars of the crib, Apophis holding onto it with a tiny one of his own. Asleep – _peacefully_ asleep – for the first time in days, Jack is less than pleased when several things happen at once.

His mobile begins to ring, playing _Hit Me Baby One More Time._

The Doctor bursts in, dressed – unfortunately – and grinning. "Oh, I am so _thick_ sometimes!"

And the Time Tyke wakes up, sees the Doctor, and begins squalling at the top of his lungs.

With a glare at the Doctor, Jack stands up, stretching briefly, before reaching down for Apophis. "Well done, _sunshine_. You woke him up."

"Yes, well…" The Doctor waves a hand.

Jack ignores him, trying to comfort the Time Tyke. "Human baby formula is fine, right?"

The Doctor blinks. "Yeah, but he's not hungry right now."

Apophis continues crying.

"What's the nasty Time Lord done to you," Jack says, holding the Time Tyke up to his nose. "Huh? What's he done to you? I don't care what he says, you're three months old, you need another meal."

"Three months, two days, and seventeen hours," the Doctor corrects. "But it can't hurt him."

Jack ignores this, holding onto Apophis with one hand and picking up the phone with the other. "Hello?"

"Yeah. Hi. We landed, talking to some of your UNIT buddies now. Be home in about an hour."

Jack blinks, trying to readjust again. "Great. Thanks, Owen."

"Whatever." With that, Owen hangs up.

Staring at the phone in his hand, Jack sighs. "Right. Time to face the music."

The Doctor quivers, bursting with excitement. The sleep seems to have helped him – if 'helped' means 'made more excitable than usual', which quite frankly, would be impressive. "Yes, but _Jack_ – I figured out _why_."

"Why what?" Jack's not awake enough to deal with excited Doctor. He needs Ianto's coffee first. And Ianto, more than likely.

The Doctor bounds forward, almost hugs Jack, almost hugs the Time Tyke, stops himself both times, and leans against the wall. "Why Apophis doesn't like me but does like you."

To be honest, Jack hasn't thought about it. To be _brutally _honest, he's not sure why the Doctor has. With a sigh, he crosses the room – and it's then that he realizes he's finally got the Doctor in his bedroom and neither of them are anywhere near ready for sex – and grabs another packet of baby formula. "Come along, Tyke," he tells Apophis, who giggles. It occurs to him that he needs to shower. This is shoved off to the back of his mind, on the list of Things That I Can Worry About Later.

"Tyke?"

Jack brushes past him, both hands occupied in holding squirmy baby or else one of them would have ended up somewhere on the Doctor, headed for the kitchenette he has in his quarters. Get a towel out, put Time Tyke on towel, put one hand on Tyke, try to open cupboard and get baby bottle out one-handed, then try to open packet with one hand – who the _hell_ designed these things? – dump packet into bottle, or try to, because most of it ends up on the counter instead, swear, repeat.

The Doctor watches in amusement. "Would you like help?"

"No." He gets it worked out eventually – it's been a while since he's had kids, things have changed a bit – and the Time Tyke latches onto his bottle happily, sucking eagerly while staring up at Jack with wide eyes.

It's nice that someone is happy, because the next problem is Jack's daily cup of coffee. Or, rather more accurately, his daily _first_ cup of coffee. With Torchwood, it's either caffeine or alcohol as a replacement for blood, and this decade's caffeine. Also, the coffee's on the other side of the kitchen.

"Fuck."

"Don't," the Doctor says, frowning as he sits on the counter.

Jack briefly considers socking him, but he's on the other side of the room, and Jack's pretty sure the Tyke knows how to roll over. "There's coffee in the cabinet beside you," he says instead, trying to keep a grip on his fraying temper.

The Doctor reaches in and passes over a bag of ground coffee, watching with interest as Jack goes through a similar process with the coffee as the baby formula, only without the swearing.

And then, midway through putting _way_ too much coffee in the coffee maker, the Time Tyke drops his bottle.

There is, at this point, no way to get the bottle without taking his hand off the Tyke, who is beginning to turn a beet red. Jack looks at the Tyke, looks at the bottle, looks at the Doctor.

"You could _ask_," the Doctor says, looking as if they've just now reached the point in the conversation he's been waiting for.

No, he can't. Because the instant he asks for help, he tells the Doctor that he can't handle this, and then that gives the Doctor grounds for taking the Time Tyke _back,_ and Jack cannot believe he's gotten attached this quickly, except that this is the first person in a really long time who he could conceivably spend the rest of most of a significant fraction of his life with – and who is _not_ the Doctor, because he shut down that train of thought sometime during the Year That Never Was – and none of this makes it out of his mouth, or even onto his face. Instead, he picks up the Time Tyke, who is noisily unhappy about this, and bends down to get the bottle.

Apophis latches onto his bottle again, and is silent.

The room is equally silent as Jack places the Tyke back on his towel and begins to make coffee. The Doctor stands and observes. It's creepy, how still he can be when he decides he wants to.

Of course, this doesn't last for long, as nothing with the Doctor ever does. "Why are you doing this?" he asks, waving a hand. "Caring for Apophis. He's my responsibility, after all, I can do it –"

That's it. Jack is _done_ with this flouncing pinstriped blithering _idiot_. "Shut. Up. Doctor," he snaps, turning back to his coffee maker, back straight with tension.

The Doctor flinches.

It's bizarre how Jack knows this – he can't _see_ the Time Lord, but after a year on the same ship, being tortured by the same man, he's come to recognize the shifts in breathing and the sound of cloth and the scratch of a shoe against the stone floor that mean he is now on the very short list of people who scared the Doctor and lived to talk about it.

He wants to apologize. He doesn't. He just stands there, his back to the Doctor, and continues making coffee while keeping an eye on the Time Tyke.

But this is _wrong_, this is so, so _wrong_ that he can scare the Doctor. He knows he wouldn't have been able to do it a year before. This is a new development, a new _terrifying_ development, because it means that the Doctor is a lot more damaged than he ever wants to give away.

Clenching his teeth as he tries to pour the coffee one handed, he gives up. "What did you want to tell me? About the Time Tyke?"

"Time Tyke?" the Doctor asks.

Jack shrugs, getting his first sip of coffee for the day and instantly feeling better. "It's what I call him."

There's a pause. "I like it," the Doctor says tentatively. One more sign how damaged he is. "Time Lords – our genome isn't stable."

Taking a large gulp of coffee, Jack looks at him. "Really."

The Doctor smiles slightly – a good sign. "Yeah. Um – it's the least stable after regeneration, but it's really not – not steady at any point, really. And, well, during – um – during childhood, it's important that the genome be, you know, pretty – ah – set." He's dancing around the problem for some reason, and Jack takes a sip of coffee as he waits for the Doctor to get to the point.

"Apophis needs to stay with you."

Jack spits out his coffee, tries to wipe his mouth without taking his hand off the Tyke, and drops the mug on the floor, where it promptly shatters.

The Time Tyke starts crying. Both the Doctor and Jack lunge for him, but the Doctor stops himself quickly. Jack picks up the Tyke and rocks him gently, ignoring the puddle of coffee on the floor and the stain on his shirt. "You owe me a mug," he mutters, trying to calm Apophis back down.

The Doctor shifts awkwardly. "He likes you better than me."

"I'd gathered."

The Time Tyke's sobs turn into quiet whimpers. Jack picks up the bottle and offers it to the Tyke. Thankfully, he decides to take it, and the room is silent once more.

Until, of course, the Doctor starts talking again. "There's a reason."

Jack blinks at him, grabbing another mug. "Of course there is. Can you explain it to me without the technobabble?"

"You run _Torchwood!_" the Doctor protests, waving a hand.

Coffee goes _in_ mug, something that's a lot harder than it sounds when one and a half of your hands are occupied with baby. "And?"

The Doctor doesn't seem to know what to say to this. "Time Lord babies need stability," he says as if speaking to a five-year-old. "You're the most stable thing in the universe."

Jack is suddenly grateful that he doesn't have any more coffee in his mouth, because otherwise it would be joining the former mouthful all over his shirt. "What? No – wait. You're saying that the reason _you_ can't stand to be around me is the same reason the Tyke _has_ to be?"

The Doctor looks very uncomfortable. "Maybe?"

"Doctor." Jack's running out of patience, and the team'll be here in less than forty-five minutes and he still needs to shower, and the Doctor doesn't seem willing to talk about whatever is going on, and he really does need the information.

A long pause. Jack takes a sip of the new coffee and makes sure to swallow. Finally the Doctor jams his hands in his pockets. "You're prickly, Jack. You're all spiny and pokey in my mind. But that's not a basic fact of _you_, that's part of _me_. To my mind, you're wrong – but not to the universe. And certainly not to that one." He nods at the Time Tyke. "To my mind, you're wrong because I haven't felt anything like you in centuries – you're stable, and I'm too used to travelling the universe. Nothing's been stable for me since –" He cuts himself off. "For a very long time."

Jack drains the mug, nodding as he sets it down on the counter. "And the Tyke?"

"Like I said – Time Lord babies need stability. Normally, at – at – on Gallifrey, the parents'd stay home from the beginning of pregnancy all the way through the twentieth birthday. Obviously, the Tyke's had a bit of a rough start, but – but now –" He smiles hopefully.

Jack's not the most awake person in the mornings, but even he can put together where this is going. "You're stuck here for twenty years because you don't want to leave a bunch of stupid humans together with _your_ Time Tyke. And you're sulking."

The sudden blankness on the Doctor's face says that yes, that was _exactly_ where this was going. "I wasn't gonna put it like _that_," the Doctor whines, trying to dig himself out of his nice personalized hole.

"Yes, you were," Jack says flatly. "You know what? Fine. Stay here for twenty years if you want. I'll have Ianto get you your own room and you can join the Torchwood team. Do whatever the bloody hell you want, 'cause I don't _fucking _care." He's angry and he's hurt and he's grieving, because whatever the Doctor's got planned, it won't end well for him. It never does.

The Doctor blinks. "Don't – don't swear."

Jack rounds on him. "And why shouldn't I? I'll fucking swear as much –"

The Doctor's eyes flicker down to the Time Tyke.

Jack's follow. "Oh. Okay then. At three months?"

The Doctor nods silently. He hadn't moved at Jack's outburst, but he had paled, and is now starting to shake.

"Right. No swearing. Owen'll like that." Jack feels the need for another cup of coffee, and looks over at the Doctor. "Something to drink?"

To his delight, the Doctor actually looks surprised. "No."

Jack sighs, filling his mug again. "So – you, me, Time Tyke. Anything else we need to sort out or should we start with that relationship?"

Again, the Doctor is surprised. Jack could get used to this.

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, they have a deal hammered out, Martha is on her way over, Jack still hasn't showered but he has changed clothes, and the Torchwood team is running late. This, Jack explains to an increasingly anxious Doctor, is normal – expected, even – and he won't call Gwen until they're at least an hour behind schedule. The Doctor doesn't buy it, but is sufficiently distracted by the presence of Myfanwy to drop the subject.

Fifteen minutes after that, Martha walks in, sees Jack wearing a sling with the Time Tyke in it, and laughs so hard she almost falls in the pool. The Doctor sort-of explains the situation to her, and Jack fills in the gaps. Martha looks at the two of them – the Doctor has a lovely bruise rising on his cheekbone resulting from his 'accidental' insults involving the Torchwood team, and Jack looks like he's been freshly shagged – and invites herself onto Torchwood. Her explanation – much more to Jack's taste than the Doctor's – is that they'll kill each other if left alone, and there needs to be _someone_ sane in the area. Jack's protestations that the team is sane fall on deaf ears. He's not sure if he believes them himself.

Seventeen minutes later – he knows because the Doctor has been counting aloud – the Torchwood team shows up, looking varying degrees of exhausted, annoyed, and generally pissed off. The last one belongs to Owen, as usual.

"What the _hell_ is going on?" Also Owen.

Jack and the Doctor look at each other. Predictably, the Doctor is the first one to speak. "Don't swear."

Owen opens his mouth again, but Gwen covers it with her hand. "Jack, _please_ tell me the baby isn't yours."

"He's not mine," Jack says obediently, ignoring the continuing doubt about whether or not the Tyke _is_ his. Their deal hadn't gotten around to terminology or anything else that would clarify whether the Time Tyke is the Doctor's that he's taking care of or whether the Time Tyke is _his_ and the Doctor's educating or whether it really matters at all.

Gwen looks like she knows he's lying, or at least not telling the whole truth.

The Doctor touches him on the shoulder, and he just about _melts_, because it's the first time the Doctor's initiated a touch since – well, since Satellite Five. "Jack – introductions perhaps?"

"Right," Jack says, realizing belatedly that he's ever explained to anyone about the Doctor. "Ah – guys, this is my team. Gwen Cooper, she's my woman of all work."

Gwen chuckles at the description, removing her hand from Owen's mouth. "Hey."

"That's Owen Harper, medic."

Owen scowls equally at Gwen and at Jack – he's not going to react well to the revelation of the Doctor.

"Toshiko Sato, technology."

Tosh smiles, setting her bags down. She's not good with strangers – no matter how she takes to the Doctor, she's still likely to end up on a computer, tucked away in a corner.

"And Ianto Jones –"

"Tea boy," Ianto says, which is probably a good thing given that Jack really isn't sure what Ianto's description was going to be. He smiles and waves at the others – he's the other one Jack's worried about. He's pretty sure Ianto hasn't ever dealt with Canary Warf, and the Doctor was all wrapped up in that.

The Doctor shoots a glance at Jack that the immortal promptly ignores. "Right," Jack says, "and these are my friends. Martha Jones, medical doctor –"

"Not yet," Martha says.

"Really? After all that time with himself," Jack waves at the Doctor, "and you haven't gotten your degree yet?"

Martha grins. "Not sure any of those degrees would work on Earth."

Jack shrugs. "And – and this is the Doctor."

"Hello!" The Doctor smiles and waves. "Oh look – guns."

Because yes, Ianto has a gun out, and Owen's hand is disturbingly near his. Tosh looks worried, and Gwen confused – that's right, she only came on the team after Canary Warf, she doesn't know about the Doctor.

Jack steps forward, uncomfortably aware that he has the Time Tyke in a pouch on his chest and doesn't have a gun. "And this is Osiris," he says, stroking the Time Tyke's head.

There's a moment of dead silence as Ianto points a gun over Jack's shoulder at the Doctor, and the rest of the team looks confused.

"Osiris?" the Doctor asks. "No, hold on, his name is Apophis."

Jack deliberately turns his back on Ianto and grins at the Doctor. "I'm not having you call the child after the Egyptian god of chaos and destruction."

The Doctor frowns. "Right, but calling him after the god of the dead is a much better choice. Shouldn't we use the name his father wanted?"

"His father's dead. And insane. And tried to destroy the Earth. I don't think he gets any weight in this decision," Jack says bluntly. "Besides, Osiris was also the god of rebirth. I think that's a good message, don't you?"

The Doctor, who had looked strained at the mention of the Master, brightens up at this. "You're right. And," he looks down, clasping his hands behind his back, "he is your child. I – I'm just here to help."

Jack can tell by the angle of the Doctor's eyes that Ianto has started to lower his gun. That doesn't matter, because what matters is the way that the Doctor has just given him a reason to live – and evidently broken his own hearts in the process. "No. Sorry, Doctor, but you're wrong. He's _our_ child. Got the two of us for fathers. Best raised child in the universe."

He could get used to that expression of surprise on the Doctor's face. "Wait. But – what? We – we're not a thing, are we? Is this a human thing, to – to – to –" He waves a hand.

Jack laughs – really, _really_ laughs, holding onto Osiris, surrounded by friends, and standing in front of the one man who cannot leave him anymore, not for twenty years, at least. "Only if you want to, Doc."


	2. Adjusting, II

**A/N: Oh gods. I hate my plot bunnies. Here you go, Twicked, the second chapter. Some things have changed, however: this **_**is**_** going to be continued and turn into a multi-chapter epic. I'll be combining **_**Torchwood**_**, season 2 with **_**Doctor Who**_**, series 4 and a few new things of my own. However, I will **_**not**_** be working on this full time until **_**Weaken the Lock**_** is done, currently forecast to be sometime in May.**

**Some notes to keep in mind: Jack Harkness/Tenth Doctor is **_**not**_** necessarily the main pairing. I don't know what the main pairing is yet (the characters haven't told me) but this is **_**not**_** going to be graphic. If it does get up to M, it will be because of torture/ swearing/ violence/ mentions of sex a la Torchwood/ etc. The two main characters are the Doctor and Jack, and those will (I think) be the two main POV characters as well.**

**Thanks to: Twicked, RaeMa, and Ne'ith5.**

**SPOILERS FOR: Doctor Who, series 3, obviously. Quite a few from Torchwood season 1 as well.**

**WARNING: Some swearing (not much, really), implied PTSD, suicide triggers, depression, Osiris being the most adorable thing on the face of the Earth, etc.**

* * *

There's a bit of an awkward silence – the Doctor gaping at Jack, who's grinning, Martha staring at the two of them, Ianto with his gun still out but thankfully no longer pointed at anyone, the rest of the team beyond confused – before Gwen speaks up. "Jack – where've you been?"

There really can't be a worse question for anyone to ask. He's still trying to deal with everything and what he really needs right now is a nice little alien attack – a few weevils or something – to keep everyone distracted.

The Doctor, of course, misses this. "Oh, you know, here and there, round and about, been busy," he says, waving a hand.

"Jack."

He turns at that tone of voice from Gwen, one hand cradling Osiris, the other in his pocket.

Gwen looks at him. "You left us, Jack. You were gone, and then we got this command from the PM to go to Nepal, of all places –"

"Bloody cold there," Owen puts in.

Ignoring this, Gwen says, "And then a call from you, telling us to come back, and the PM's _dead_, and I could _really_ use an explanation, Jack, 'cause I'm not sure why we should trust you anymore."

Jack flinches, hands closing possessively around Osiris. "I – this man just saved the world." He points back at the Doctor. "I had to help him, 'cause he can't do it all on his own. And yeah, I left you without saying anything, and – and for that, I'm sorry." He actually manages to look contrite for this, but he doesn't think his team buys it. "But I came back, guys, I came back for you." He grins, the effect somewhat spoiled by Osiris on his chest.

The Doctor shuffles his feet, backing up. "I – there's something I need to do – the TARDIS." Abruptly, he turns and begins striding off for where the TARDIS is parked in a corner of the still semi-damaged Hub.

"Doctor." Jack looks at him, swallowing. "Please. Stay."

He stops, back going rigid. "I –I'm just in the way – really, there're things I need to –"

Jack hates himself for having to make this decision, the Doctor or his team, but he knows which way it'll go. He's always known, on some level, but after the evens of the past year, he might have left the Doctor if he hadn't seen how damaged the Time Lord is. Walking away from Gwen, he moves to stand behind the Doctor, not quite touching the man. "You're not in the way, Doctor. You're never in the way. Stay. Everyone needs to meet you, you're gonna be here long enough."

It's the wrong thing to say. The Doctor turns, his face hard and bitter. "No. I won't. I'll just pop in and visit, sometimes. Can't stay anywhere too long."

"And leave Osiris?" Jack asks. He knows it's a cruel trick, but if he lets the Doctor leave now, he's worried the man will never come back – not because he won't want to, but because he'll get himself killed.

The Doctor flinches, silent for a minute. "I – I can't – I can't stay."

Jack twitches, not quite willing to touch the Doctor, not when he's this on edge. "Yes you can. We're on the edge of a rift in time and space. It's not like you'll be bored here."

He shudders briefly. "No. No, no, no. I – I can't – let me go!" The Doctor turns to face Jack, eyes wide and face pale.

"Doctor." Jack stares at him, watching the Time Lord throw himself into oblivion. Trying to pull him back from the edge. "I'm not gonna keep you imprisoned. I'm not gonna make you do anything you don't want to. But I can't raise Osiris by myself. I don't know enough about Time Lords, and what happens if something goes wrong when you're gone? You're not always the most dependable when you're in the middle of another adventure."

The Doctor pulls back from him. "No – I – I – I – I just need a minute."

Jack meets his eyes. "Promise me you'll come back."

"Yeah. Yeah, sure," the Doctor says, visibly more relaxed. "Course I'll come back. I always come back."

At this, Jack _does_ reach out and grab the Doctor's arm. "You didn't for me. That's why I ask." Letting go, he says, "I'll order an extra pizza for you. Make sure you're back for lunch."

The fear vanishes from the Doctor's eyes, but his smile is still fake. "I will." And then he's gone, walking back to the TARDIS as quickly as he can get away with, closing the door firmly behind him.

"He's not coming back," Martha says.

The TARDIS, to Jack's astonishment, doesn't disappear. "Maybe he is." Jack doesn't want to hope, is aware it hurts too much, but _if_ –

"I want an explanation," Owen demands, in a broader than normal Welsh drawl.

Jack sighs. "Yes. Ianto, we're going to need coffee."

* * *

It takes a few minutes for everyone to get settled, but before long they're in the new conference room, everyone with a cuppa of one thing or another, the Time Tyke with a bottle in Jack's arms.

Gwen looks at him sadly. "Explain, Jack."

He does. It's not something he's used to, explaining himself, but there really isn't another choice. If his team doesn't trust him, he's lost – there's no way he's imitating his predecessor and killing them all, and _he_ won't leave Torchwood. Martha helps, in the areas that she can, but it's mostly him.

He starts with Bad Wolf. He doesn't talk about the Time Agency, or Second World War London, or anything with the Doctor and Rose. He talks about the Game Station, and the Daleks, and his first death. The room is silent at that, even Osiris looking up at him with big blue eyes as if he understands. Then he talks about coming back to life, stuck on Satellite Five with the Doctor long gone, about trying to get back to the Doctor and ending up in 1869. About discovering that he couldn't die. About joining Torchwood because someday the Doctor would come back. About taking over after Alex shot everyone else.

Then he lets Martha take over and tell them about Utopia and Harold Saxon and the Year That Never Was. Draining his second coffee, he adjusts the Time Tyke and his bottle. Osiris gurgles at him before returning to sucking on the bottle.

When she's done, the room is silent again. Gwen and Tosh look about ready to cry, while Ianto has a look of pity on his face, and Owen is scowling – though not at him. "I – I'm sorry, Jack," Gwen says finally.

The others nod, Owen reluctantly.

He doesn't need their _pity_. Jack stands abruptly, turning away from the table. The Time Tyke hiccups in distress. Taking a few deep breaths, he manages to calm back down eventually, reminding himself that pity isn't always bad, that he can turn this to an advantage if he's careful – but he doesn't want to be that manipulative, not anymore. Facing Gwen again, he looks at her. "We good, then? I don't need any more problems – between the Time Tyke and himself downstairs, we're gonna have enough."

Gwen nods instantly. "We're good. All of us."

Again the rest of them nod, although this time it's Ianto who's the slowest. He makes steady eye contact with Jack. "You wanna explain why we're hiding the alien Torchwood was founded to oppose?"

"Because Queen Victoria was wrong," Jack says flatly. "I should know. I was there. Torchwood should never have been founded to begin with, let alone with the mission of keeping the Doctor out. Half the time, he's the only one protecting us."

Ianto stands up. "And the rest of the time? If he's such a big protector, what was going on all those times we had to save the world? What about Abbadon?"

Martha shoots Jack a look that he ignores. Shifting the Time Tyke, Jack relaxes into his chair. "If we'd needed him, he would have come."

"Thousands of people _died_, Jack! What was that, if not a need?" Ianto bursts out, pressing his hands against the table.

Osiris drops his bottle, face scrunching up. Eyes shut, he lets out an ear piercing wail, stopping only to draw in a gasping breath.

Jack stands quickly, resting Osiris against his shoulder, patting him gently on the back. "Come on, come on, I know what you need, li'l Tyke, you need to burp."

"Ianto," Gwen scolds, thumping him on the shoulder, "you upset the baby."

Rocking slowly, Jack rubs the Time Tyke's back. "Someone got a cloth?" Feeling the growing wet stain spreading over his shoulder, he groans. "Never mind. I'll go get one." Striding out of the room, he ignores Gwen's mutterings to the rest of the team.

On the other side of the door, he runs into the Doctor – literally. With Osiris protesting this latest indignation, Jack backs up quickly. "What – how much did you hear?"

The Doctor doesn't answer. The look on his face says it was enough.

"Look, Doctor," Jack begins, hoping to cut off the wave of regret he knows is coming.

It doesn't work. "Thousands of people, Jack." The Doctor looks at Jack, face set. "Why didn't you call me?"

Settling Osiris again, Jack gives him a stern look. "Well, for one, I didn't know you had a phone."

"You could have –"

"And for two," Jack cuts off angrily, "I didn't want to bother you. For all I knew, you could have been busy saving the universe again. The population of Cardiff doesn't matter, compared to _that_."

The Doctor gapes at him. "Yes it does. Course it does, every life matters, you know that, Jack."

Jack has to take a few deep breaths before he can respond. "Don't you _dare_ turn this into a moral argument on me, Doctor. I was trying to make your life easier. Period. End of story. If I had called you – what was the last thing you did before landing in Cardiff?"

He blinks at this, stepping backwards. "Got stuck in 1969 for three months because of an incident with some Weeping Angels. If you'd called the TARDIS, there wouldn't've been anyone there. Before that – stopped a Kathorix trying to spawn in the middle of London."

"And would the world be better or worse off if you'd have abandoned those problems – I've _heard_ of the Kathroix, Doctor, and I don't want to be near even one of them, let alone a whole spawn – abandoned those problems to come deal with a demon that I was perfectly capable of defeating?" Jack shifts the Time Tyke from his wet shoulder to his dry one. "Besides – we didn't know that it could kill people by touching them with its shadow until people started dying. Would you have known any better?"

The Doctor shudders. "I could have _tried_."

Jack glares at him. "I _did_ try. We _did_ defeat Abbadon. We _didn't_ need you. If we'd needed you – if we _ever_ truly need you – we'd call. I care about you, Doctor, and sometimes that means letting you do your own thing and dealing with problems on my own." He sighed, looking at the spit-up on his shoulder. "Ianto! I'm gonna need my coat cleaned."

"I'm on it, sir," Ianto says, coming up behind him.

It takes more coordination than normal to get the greatcoat off without disturbing Osiris, but he does accomplish it, handing the coat to Ianto. "Can we be done with that?"

Ianto gives him an innocent look. "Done with what, sir?"

Deciding to ignore Ianto's odd behaviour, Jack walks down the stairs, headed for his room. He needs a new shirt, for one, and the Time Tyke could use his nappies changed. It doesn't occur to him until halfway down the stairs that the other two are following. "Do you need something?"

Ianto freezes, looking a bit guilty, but the Doctor keeps moving and ends up just a step above Jack – almost touching. "There are some things you need to know about Osiris."

Jack continues down the stairs. "Shoot." It's a bit harder to make it down the ladder with a baby in his hands, but he manages it, headed for his rooms. He doesn't usually let anyone else in here, but Ianto has "spent the night" more times than either of them can count, and the Doctor wouldn't listen.

Unusually, the Doctor halts just outside the door to Jack's rooms, blocking Ianto. "There – there's a difference between Gallifreyans and Time Lords. Gallifreyans are – well, they're born. We're a species. _Dominus temporus_. And – and – and Time Lords are _made_. But most Time Lords are – _were_ Gallifreyans. And vice versa. And Osiris is both. I think. Pretty sure, at least."

Frowning, Jack sets the Time Tyke in his cot and unbuttons his shirt. "Hold on a sec, Doc – the Master was Gallifreyan. And a Time Lord. But Lucy Saxon was definitely human – if they were different species –"

"Kos- the Master had access to a fully equipped TARDIS," the Doctor cuts in. "Lucy Saxon was never pregnant. The Master extrapolated a gamete and some DNA and then fused them with his own. After some modifications, of course." He waves a hand. "In the genes that we share with humans, he's half and half. In the rest, he's all Gallifreyan, with that _little bit _extra that makes a Time Lord."

Ianto frowns, crossing his arms across his chest. "That's not anything humans can do."

The Doctor shrugs, hands everywhere. "Give it another million years, you'll get there."

Pulling his shirt fully off – they're both watching him – Jack pulls one off the dresser.

"You've got drawers," Ianto comments dryly.

Jack makes a face at him, beginning to button up a new pale blue shirt. "Doc – what does this mean for the Time Tyke?"

Running a hand through his hair, the Doctor leans against the door. "He's like me. You – _we_ can't take him to a human doctor, but between me and Owen, we've got it covered."

Twitching the collar to make it lay right, Jack looks at the Doctor. "That's the first time you've acted like you're staying."

The Doctor shuffles his feet. "I don't. I don't stay places – there's never been a reason."

"But there is now," Jack says quietly.

Looking down at his feet, the Doctor makes a motion with his head that could have been considered a nod. "Yeah." He pauses. "Yeah," he says, more firmly.

* * *

Eventually Gwen sends Owen for pizza, despite his protests – they usually order in, but Jack doesn't want anyone else around the Doctor right now. He's unstable, more maniacally hyper than normal but with frequent bouts of depression. When Owen gets back with the pizza, the Doctor's in the vaults with Jack and the Time Tyke, who Jack hasn't let out of his sight. Gwen and Martha are bonding over coffee and mutual male horror stories – what a terrifying thought, the two of them together – Tosh has returned to her computer, and Ianto is sulking.

Jack is vaguely aware that it's probably his fault, but that doesn't matter right now. Because the Doctor is _happy_ and enthusiastic and – surprise – _explaining_ himself, and Jack's learned more in half-an-hour of listening to him than in a hundred years of trying to work things out on his own. Osiris seems to be listening too, although at three months, it's a bit hard to tell.

By the time they get back upstairs, half the pizza is gone – Jack _swears_ Owen has an empty leg or something, 'cause otherwise it's not possible to eat like he does – and the Time Tyke is sound asleep in the sling on Jack's chest.

Jack's just grabbed a piece of pizza when Gwen calls him over. "Wha'?" he says, walking over to her, voice muffled by his food.

She rolls her eyes. "Are you in a relationship with the Doctor?"

He almost drops the pizza. "What? No! Not – not that I wouldn't want to be," he adds more quietly, with a grin, "but _he's_ still pining for R- a girl he lost. He wouldn't have me." The grin can't quite conceal the pain in his voice, and he knows it.

"Then are you in a relationship with Ianto?" she asks bluntly.

Jack gapes at her, unable to answer for a second. "What? Gwen, I don't see how –"

Gwen crosses her arms. "I don't care who you are or are not sleeping with at the moment, Jack. But Ianto thinks he's just been dumped for an alien, and you owe him an explanation, if nothing else."

Reflexively, Jack curls an arm around the Time Tyke. "Right. But – Gwen, don't you think you're overreacting?"

She glares at him. "Ianto! Come 'ere! You too, Doctor!" she yells, turning away. "The three of you are going up to the conference room until you've sorted things out."

The Doctor looks confused, Ianto sulky. Jack's a bit abashed, but leads the way regardless. As the last one into the room, the Doctor closes the door behind him, pushing a little too hard. The loud noise wakes up Osiris, who immediately begins crying.

"Really, Doctor?" Jack mutters, trying to calm down a very upset Time Tyke.

Shuffling his feet, the Doctor falls into a chair next to Jack. "He won't take a dummy," the Doctor says, looking down at Osiris. "It's too artificial. The only reason he takes to the bottle is 'cause he knows it's got his food."

Jack's only partly paying attention to him, focusing on the Time Tyke. "Yeah?"

"Try your finger," the Doctor says quietly, looking like he wants nothing more than to reach over and help himself, but he can't.

It takes a second for Jack to process this. Adjusting Osiris, he places a finger on the Time Tyke's lips. Blue eyes focus on his hand as Osiris reaches up and grabs it, sticking it firmly in his mouth. Beginning to suckle on Jack's finger, the Time Tyke falls silent, eyes still staring upwards.

Ianto sits down as if he can't stop himself, taking the chair farthest from the Doctor. "How are you so good with him?"

Jack smiles down at the Time Tyke. "Practice."

"On _who_?" Ianto bursts out.

He doesn't look up, he won't look up, because so long as he can see Osiris he can forget all the others. "I've been a father before."

The Doctor shifts. "So. What did Gwen Cooper want?"

Jack feels his heart stop, even though he knows it's impossible. "N-nothing. Nothing, really. Just wanted to make sure we had a plan for the next time aliens come."

"Why?" the Doctor asks, apparently confused.

Looking up, Jack quirks his lips. "Because the odds are good that I'll need to go out at some point, and one or both of you'll be left behind with the Time Tyke. Unless, of course, you wanna come too." He hates how his voice goes all quiet and hesitant on the last sentence. It makes him sound like he's twelve.

The Doctor freezes. He's abruptly motionless, and it's so, so _terribly_ wrong because he's _never_ supposed to be motionless, and Jack's heart aches just to see him still.

"You don't have to," Jack says quickly. "Actually, I've got an idea. Ianto, what if I put the Doctor in charge of the vaults, and then you can come on more expeditions?"

Ianto nods slowly. "Yes, sir."

Jack frowns. "That. I thought you were stopping that."

Again Ianto pulls an innocent look. "What, sir?" Standing, he nods to the Doctor and then to Jack. "I'll go add him to the permissions, then. Unless you need anything more?" His words are servile, but everything else radiates hostility.

Jack's not prepared to wade through the murky waters that are relationships, and so gives it up as a bad job. "Yeah, about that, Ianto – He's not on file. Not ever going to be, either, so have Tosh keep her hands off."

Ianto's face changes from innocent to confused. "Why?"

"Too dangerous," Jack says instantly, arms cradled around the Time Tyke. "I might not always be around to keep you lot off his back."

The Doctor's head pops up. "I don't need protecting," he protests quickly – quicker than he would have a year ago.

Jack looks at him. "Yes you do. I _know_, Doctor. I _know_ about Canary Warf. And I am going to do everything I can to keep the _stupid_ human race from doing you any more harm."

"Sir – the vault cannot be accessed without the proper codes," Ianto says.

This gets a glare. "Then tell Tosh to change it. I am _not_ having anything of the Doctor's on record here. That goes double for Osiris. Am I understood?"

The Doctor frowns. "Why?"

Jack rolls his eyes. For some reason, he's in a building with half a dozen geniuses, and none of them have the common sense of a dead monkey. "Because you're important, and humans can be stupid. If we put in information about you, about how even if you're in terrible pain so bad you can't talk, we can't give you aspirin 'cause it'll kill you, if we put that in the records, then in three hundred years, when I've had to go into hiding again 'cause I've lived too long, someone will get a hold of you and force feed you aspirin."

The Doctor shudders. "Oh. Right. Thanks." He smiles, looking very much like this is a new thought for him – being vulnerable.

"So," Jack says, standing, "next time we've got a spike somewhere, Ianto or I'll let you into the vaults, and I'll leave Osiris in a baby seat next to you. That work?"

Looking up at Jack, the Doctor swallows before his eyes flick down to Osiris. "Yeah. Yeah, that'll work fine."

Gwen opens the door, not bothering to knock first. "Oh good, you're not shagging," she says, glancing around the room. "Jack – Martha needs you. We're trying to get her family settled, but they won't listen to Owen."

Jack jumps up, cradling Osiris in his arms. "God. You sent _Owen_? _God_, Gwen, they're traumatized, and you sent _Owen_?"

Gwen rolls her eyes. "Yes, but Tosh wouldn't go. Apparently the Rift monitor's acting up again, and she's the only one who knows the calculations."

"Right," Jack says, thinking it over. "I'm going to meet Owen – Martha still here?" At Gwen's nod, he continues. "Were you even _thinking_? Yeah, you wanted her here for the Doctor, but _Gwen_ – her family. Right, anyway, Martha and I are going to help her family – Owen'll stay with us. You and Tosh stay here, keep an eye out for anything. Ianto, I want you to take the Doctor and the Time Tyke into the vaults. Stay down there. _Don't_ let them out of your sight. We all good? Let's go, team."

The Doctor grins. "Ooh, I'm part of a _team_ now. This is new."

Jack shakes his head, snorting. "I know you worked for UNIT before. Can you hold Osiris now, or does he need Ianto instead?"

For a second the Doctor goes very pale; then he recovers slightly and sighs. "I – Ianto might be useful."

"Alright," Jack says to the Time Tyke, "and out we go."

Osiris giggles, waking up at the sound of Jack's voice. He's less amused when Jack passes him off to Ianto, however, face bunching up unhappily.

Ianto's face softens as he looks down at the Time Tyke. One arm supporting Osiris, he waggles the fingers of the other in front of his face. Distracted, the Time Tyke grins, displaying empty gums.

Jack sighs. "This shouldn't take too long, Doctor. I'll be back by evening."

The Doctor looks up at him, away from Ianto. "If you're not, I'm coming to get you."

"Good," Jack says, smiling. "Always nice to have backup."

* * *

The problems start almost as soon as they get into the vault. The Doctor talks – a lot – but the one thing he hasn't figured out how to do in nine hundred years of travelling the universe is talk and write two different things at the same time. He _had_ been cataloguing alien artefacts in Torchwood's vault, but after he mistakenly writes "sings planets" in place of "sings lullabies", Ianto has taken over writing.

They're starting with the deepest levels of the vaults. The Doctor's standing – sitting, leaning, moving near – next to a row of filing cabinets. Nothing seems to be organized in any way, which is probably why Jack wants him to help. Osiris is in an infant seat right next to the Doctor, looking up at him and cooing occasionally. Sometimes the Doctor coos back. Ianto's on the other side of the hallway, about as far away as he can get without being obvious about it.

The Doctor's not sure why Ianto doesn't like him, but he's not going to ask. Besides, the nifty device that, if you press it right, will print out a list of every organism on the planet, organized by species, although unfortunately in a language no one but him can read, is far too fascinating. Babbling excitedly to Ianto, he grabs a small object from the filing cabinet next to him and hands it to Osiris. It looks like a twisted knot of sorts, but something makes him want to look at it properly. Perfect.

"What's that?" It's the first thing Ianto's said in several minutes.

Osiris holds the item up to his face and frowns, face scrunching up unhappily. Smiling, the Doctor kneels down beside him, plucking the object from his fingers. It's the work of a second to re-orient the toy, placing the sticky-outy end closest to Osiris' face.

Blue eyes focus first on the Doctor, and then on the toy. Osiris burbles.

The Doctor snorts. "Yes it's for you. Go ahead – give it a try."

Face clearing, Osiris grabs the toy, pudgy hands closing around it.

Grinning broadly, the Doctor stands back up. "There we go, then. Happy baby." He turns back to the cabinet.

"Doctor," Ianto says, a warning note in his voice. "What is that?"

The Doctor spins again, facing Ianto and sticking his hands in his pockets. "It's a stick with one end."

Ianto frowns. "That's not possible."

This well deserves, in the Doctor's opinion, the eye-roll that it gets. "Yes it is. There's one right there." He picks up the next object, running his fingers gently over the wooden surface. "This is human, actually. It's just three thousand years too early."

Ianto strides over and grabs the toy out of Osiris' hands. Immediately Osiris begins to squall, face turning beet red.

"Ianto," the Doctor whines, "look what you've done! Give it back – go on, give his toy back. I'm sure there's another one around here that you can play with if you want."

Stepping back from the Doctor, Ianto holds the toy up. "I am not doing anything," he says clearly to be heard over Osiris' increasingly loud cries, "until you explain what this is."

The Doctor steps towards Ianto, intending to take the stick back and wave it around until it makes sense.

Ianto's hand moves towards the gun that the Doctor knows he has on him. The Doctor halts. "It – it's like a Mobius strip, except two dimensions are twisted instead of one."

Ianto blinks. "What?"

The Doctor waves his hands. "A – a – a _Mobius_ strip. A piece of paper, one twist, some –"

"I know what a Mobius strip is," Ianto says shortly. "How is that even _possible_?"

He frowns at this, trying to explain a really complicated dimensional trick to a human who couldn't even access wormholes or describe the Rift properly. "It – it – it – it _is_. Ooh, and look!" He lunges forward and grabs the toy out of Ianto's hands. Twisting a chunk, he grins as the toy separates into two portions, connected in the middle. "If you cut a Mobius strip down the middle, you get two loops, each with two half-twists. That's what this is, essentially." He presses another bump, twisting a bit. The toy collapses back together and then separates again into two chunks, differently this time. "Cut it a third of the way along, you get one long skinny strip with two half-twists and one thicker Mobius strip."

Ianto stares at him, not protesting as the Doctor gives the toy back to Osiris. "What _are_ you?"

The Doctor swallows, turning away. "I'm a Time Lord." He holds up a small wooden box. "And this, is a book."

It takes Ianto a moment to catch up. "A what? No – a block of wood. A book?"

And the Doctor's off, turning the hologram on and flipping pages eagerly, showing copies of _The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire_ and _The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes_. Trailing off, he looks up at Ianto again. "You getting all this?"

Ianto's staring at him, arms crossed across his chest. "Why are you here?" he asks flatly.

The Doctor blinks. "Jack." There's more, there's more running about in his head, but that's it, really: Jack asked him to stay. So he stays. Even though Jack feels slightly _wrong_, just a bit _off_ to his senses, he stays, because a man who he trusts as a companion asked him to.

"Doctor." Ianto steps forward, eyes dark. "Why are you here? Don't lie. I've worked for Jack for years. I can tell when someone's lying."

He swallows, turning back to the cabinet. "To recover," he whispers, telling Ianto everything he can and yet nothing that is useful. Because what he's scared to admit, even to himself, is that the Master broke him. He had a hope, for a year and a day he had a hope that he wasn't going to be the last, that there was a reason to stay. And the one action of the Master's that hurt him more than anything else ever could was his choice to die. The only other Time Lord chose to die rather than spend any time with him. What the Doctor is ignoring, frantically, with all the energy of the trapped monster he knows he is, is that to break him all someone needs to do is reject him. And to recover he needs stability and someone to care – and those aren't things he can get while running around the universe.

Ianto shifts, the sound loud in the otherwise silent room. "Why. Are. You. _Here?_"

"I don't have anywhere else." The Doctor puts the book down, picking up a small collection of interlinked metal rings. Who else would have him? Rose was gone. Martha's family doesn't need him as a complication. Who else is there but Jack? And then there's Osiris, who needs him, and if he goes, there won't be anyone to show the humans how to raise a Time Lord, how to take this most complicated of species and turn it into almost a god.

There's a pause. The Doctor won't look at Ianto. He knows what he will see there, he knows where this is going. Hate and condemnation and revulsion, because humans are genetically programmed to dislike those without a home, and Jack will have to throw him out because otherwise he'll lose Ianto. "What did you do at Canary Warf?" Ianto asks finally.

Alright, that wasn't what he expected. "I fought." The words fall out of his mouth unbidden. Because that is what he did. He fought. And if he fought for peace, if he fought for the life of every human in the building, in the world, he still fought. And a part of him still died.

"What _happened?_" Ianto yells, hands clenched into fists.

The Doctor turns to look at him, rubbing the back of his neck absently. "I stopped the Daleks and the Cybermen. I saved the world. I ruined the life of the most wonderful girl in the universe." He stops, looking at Ianto sadly. "What did you want me to say?"

Ianto is shaking, just a little bit, just enough for the Doctor to notice. "You _killed_ Lisa. You _killed_ her."

He has to cross both arms across his chest in a parody of a hug to keep from trembling. "Yes," he admits quietly.

"You're an alien," Ianto says, still shaking, "and you killed Lisa, and you _destroy_ people's lives." He pulls out his gun. "Give me a reason."

The Doctor stares at the gun. He hates them for a reason, they do nothing but kill people, and he's looking down the barrel of a weapon that could do him serious damage, he's seen the effects of a bullet at close range and it's not pretty, and even his skin isn't tough enough to stop it, and he's babbling again because the only answer left isn't the right one. "There isn't one."

Ianto cocks the gun, eyes wide and frightened. His hands are shaking so badly that the barrel sways from side to side, and the only thing the Doctor can find it in himself to care about is Osiris.

The door at the end of the corridor bangs open. "Sorry Doc, there was a weevil and you know – _Ianto_?"

It's Jack, and for a second, for one unending infinitely short moment, he wishes Jack had stayed away because he wants, he _needs_ the clean pain of absolution – and then the world comes crashing back on him and he feels sick. He can't die here or now, he has to remain alive and dying would be a cop-out – besides, living hurts so much more and somewhere ugly deep inside he thinks he deserves to hurt – but then there's _Osiris_ his light his hope his miracle his reason for life his salvation –

"Ianto, put the gun down," Jack snaps. Stepping forward, he wrenches the gun out of Ianto's hands. "Now, are you going to play nice, or do you need to spend some time in the cells?" The tone of his voice says he is absolutely serious about this; the anger shuddering in his eyes says that he would be thrilled to throw Ianto in there now without even hearing the rest of the story.

It makes the Doctor wonder what life is like at Torchwood and what's happened to Jack in the years he's been alone.

Ianto shakes, eyes still staring at the Doctor. "He killed Lisa," he says, voice shaking as much as he is.

Jack rolls his eyes, sticking Ianto's gun in his belt. "No, he didn't. Even if he thinks he did, he didn't."

"He _admitted_ it!" Ianto yells.

Osiris drops his toy at this, making an unhappy burble. Sighing, Jack kneels down beside the seat, picking the toy back up and giving it back to him. "I'm sure he did," Jack says, standing back up and placing himself between Ianto and the Doctor. "Stupid self-sacrificing prat that he is, I'm sure he admitted to a lot of things. That doesn't mean he did any of them, though, and it definitely doesn't mean he should be _shot_."

The Doctor doesn't say anything, but looks down and shuffles his feet, unwilling to admit that he _had_ thought he should be shot.

"Jack," Ianto starts, but he shuts up quickly at Jack's look.

"No. Shut up. You've done enough. You're going to go upstairs and tell Gwen you're on weevil duty – _solo_ – for the rest of the week, to be extended as I feel necessary. And if I catch you _looking_ at the Doctor again, I'll RetCon the last four years. Do I make myself clear?"

Ianto nods, almost running out of the vaults. The Doctor and Jack stare at each other. "Martha's all settled, then?" the Doctor says finally.

Jack blinks, turning away. "You bloody stupid prat. You couldn't have told him _anything_ else – even the _truth_, god damn it, but _no_, you had to be a self-sacrificing _moron_ and let him shoot you!"

The Doctor swallows. Odd, how getting chastised by Jack makes him feel worse than almost getting shot in the first place. "_Almost_ shoot me," he corrects automatically.

"Doctor." Jack groans, sticking his hands in his pockets. It's such an automatic gesture that it takes the Doctor a minute to figure it out – it's _his_ gesture, not Jack's. "Look, I'll keep Ianto away from you until he cools off. His girlfriend was _upgraded_ at Canary Warf."

He nods. "I – I gathered."

Jack gives him a penetrating look. "It got to you, didn't it? The whole universe to save, and you're stuck here for twenty years, and that's wrong, and then you're still blaming yourself for everything, but especially the Master's death, and you're just a big _messy_ ball of emotions and so when someone offers you an option that doesn't involve dealing with them, you leap on it, damn the consequences."

The Doctor can't answer. It's true, it's so true, and he can't speak or else confirm it.

Jack snorts. "Look, you idiot, you don't have to _stay _here. You just have to come back once in a while. Go on, go off on a trip, save the world a few times, and then come back and tell me why the Time Tyke has a stick with one end."

He takes a long shuddering breath, and then grins broadly, restoring his normal façade. "Well then, Jack Harkness – _Allons-y!_"

Jack laughs as they leave the vaults, carrying Osiris' seat in his arms.

The Doctor follows, listening to Osiris carefully. "Oh, you're clever, you are," he says adoringly.

"What?"

Grinning, he looks up at Jack. "He's _talking_."

Jack stops in the middle of the corridor, looking down at Osiris. "He's three months old."

The Doctor shakes his head, kneeling down next to the baby seat. "Yeah, but he's saying things. You – you – you're Mummy. I'm Daddy. I-Ianto's not-Daddy. He doesn't like Ianto. He likes us." He beams up at Jack.

Beginning to smile, Jack kneels down as well. "I thought he didn't like you. I thought you said he didn't like how you felt."

Stretching one hand out, the Doctor watches carefully. Osiris looks at the Doctor's eyes, and then at his hand. Burbling, he reaches up and latches on, frowning at it. The hallway is silent. The Doctor grins. "He – he – he likes you better, he likes the way you _feel_ better, but I'm starting to settle. He can tolerate me, but he doesn't like it. And – and – and there we go!"

Osiris lets go of the Doctors hand and grabs onto Jack's, sticking it in his mouth.

Jack snorts. "He likes me better?"

The Doctor shrugs. "He likes stability. You're stable. I'm not. Ooh!" He laughs, most of it real. "He's hungry. Wants me to know that – you _are_ a clever one, aren't you?"

Laughing as well, Jack stands back up. "Well, we'd best go feed him then. Come on, Doctor."

They walk into the main floor jointly, each with one hand on the baby seat.


End file.
